A Coruscant Dawn
by Jeanne Chapados
Summary: Padmé Amidala is a fierce defender of the Republic, her ideals and values championing democracy. Nevertheless, she worries about Chancellor Palpatine's growing power and the dangers the Clone Wars raise for her husband. This is an exploration of Padmé's thoughts after she is able to reunite with Anakin. Set 5 months before the Battle of Coruscant and the fall of the Republic.
1. A Coruscant Dawn

. The sun was setting upon Coruscant. The light was progressively illuminating the multitude of buildings and streets covering every inch of the planet's surface. Although the city's lower depths rarely saw any light, being too low to reach, the higher grounds of the city were surrounded by a warm amber glow. The blazing star's golden hues started filtering through the windows of the various habitations, beckoning the city out of its slumber. The city would soon be buzzing with activity, transports rushing towards their multiple destinations at frantic speeds, droids, and billboards feverishly competing for attention. The everlasting flow of traffic, the signature of the Capital of the Republic, would soon awaken. Eventually, the sun rose enough to reach the Senate grounds and the neighboring Jedi Temple. The Senate would be called upon, debates would blaze through the many conference chambers, and the tedious game of politics would renew after its all too brief interlude.

Morning often brought good tidings. The sight of the rising dawn was something the inhabitants of Coruscant marveled. However, there starred one person for whom the setting sun was a reminder that fleeting moments of joy were never to last. She had awakened before daybreak, far too troubled to sleep through the whole night. She had wanted to stay awake, as to enjoy every moment in which her happiness seemed blissfully complete. The night had been so cold, she had pulled the covers of her bed over her shoulders and placed her body tenderly next to her sleeping lover. Every time he came back to her safe and sound, relief and hope-filled her soul. He was more than a lover or a husband to her. Anakin Skywalker was her companion in arms, her partner in the struggle to maintain democracy. While she fought at the negotiating tables, he fought on the battlefields spanning the Outer Rim and Wild Space. As a Senator, she knew how crucial it was to preserve democracy, the rule of law, and freedom of the galaxy's inhabitants for this ravaging war to end as swiftly as possible. She dreaded the use of violence and the destruction it brought forth, more so she knew the man she loved would be in the frontlines. When they would be apart, she would fill her mind to the brink with work, redacting diplomatic policy, entertaining political ties with like-minded senators, ensuring the path of diplomacy remained open.

All of a sudden, she let out a sigh of frustration. Why could she not distance politics from her mind while she was with the man she loved, sleeping peacefully next to her! She shifted under the covers, pressing herself closer as to rest her head against his chest. She could feel him breathing, sensing the rhythmic up-down motion of his respiration. Leaning over closer to his face, she stared affectionately at him. He looked so innocent in his dormancy, reminding her of the young boy she had met all those years ago in that grimy junk shop on Tatooine. He had been only ten and she fourteen, a young Queen disguised as a handmaid; then they hadn't seen each other for ten years after the Battle of Naboo. Then out of the blue, he came back.

The slave boy who dreamed of the flying eternally amongst the stars and becoming a Jedi had grown into a rather dashing young man, that spark she'd been drawn to forever present. Granted, when she first saw him again after a decade of separation, he wasn't exactly the grandest words man. He was a hopelessly naïve padawan, a child in the guise of a grown man. For all his knowledge and Jedi training, he lacked the skills to speak with a woman. His first attempts to flirt were, least to say, a bit too bold or maybe a little forced. Unsurprising when his unorthodox upbringing at the Jedi Temple came to mind, especially their strange rejection of emotional attachment.

Nevertheless, in the all too brief time they had gone into hiding with him as her Jedi protector, her childhood affection soon turned to something more profound. She had grown to love him. Her initial rebuff of him came from a genuine place of concern that he was throwing away his future for her. Their respective duties and burdens were preventing them from forming any such affection. Not only that, they would never be able to live in a secret relationship; in other words, a lie.

Only when faced with impending death in the Geonosis Arena did she confess her true feelings as she didn't want to die without him knowing how much her heart equally longed for him. This was a point of no return. Duty be damned. After their unexpected survival of the Battle of Geonosis and his terrible maiming at the hands of the traitor Count Dooku during a lightsaber duel, they secretly married in the isolated Lake Country of Naboo.

Ever since the beginning of the Clone Wars, their time together remained short. Neither of them complained, let this disappointment turn into resent of their union. Their time together, however brief, would largely compensate the longing and solitude their separations would ensue. They both loved each other too much. At least during their partitions, they could count on one another's love. These past months had been particularly hard. Anakin suffered a grievous injury during a space battle, and after months of slow recovery, he was once again back on the battlefield. Cruelly, he recovered on Coruscant, and she'd been to support her husband. All she was allowed were vague, yet grisly reports regarding the wounds of "The Hero with no Fear." Both legs were severy burned, requiring multiple bacta immersion. Bones had shattered, requiring expert reconstruction; bloodloss had been sustained, rendering him so weak his chances of survival were thought grim. For days he'd been plunged in a force-induced coma, and she unable to distinguish embellishment from the truth as he was not allowed any visitors.

At the very least, after Geonosis, she'd been able to comfort him, using their love as a balm to soothe all pain. How could Senator Padmé Amidala see to the Republic's wellbeing? Concerns over her husband burdened her heart and head. Despite herself, she would have flashes of him lying at death's door, lips blue, breathing feebly, heartbeat erratic as flashes of pain and despair dispersed all over his battered body. Sometimes, these visions were so graphic. She'd thought his breathing raspy breathing was her own, as if she was somehow breathing for two.

In the meantime, Padmé had been contesting a bill that would expertly hand control of the Jedi Order to the Chancellor. Her informants had conveyed to her the information that the law's origin came directly from Palpatine's office. This information had stunned her. Typically, the Chancellor never explicitly took the initiative to award himself further emergency powers. It was his habit to wait for one of his compliant Senate allies to propose such measures. As a result of Amidala's tireless defense of the Jedi Order's independence, the bill had only narrowly failed in the Senate. Palpatine was becoming more influential, entranced in power, and his motives far more suspect. Since this event, she could no longer consider Palpatine an ally. The man she once regarded as a mentor during her terms as Queen, then a benevolent partner and friend, had morphed into a man whose lust for power was becoming more and more apparent. The warmness she'd held for Palpatine had morphed into wariness, then an all-consuming suspicion (verging on a quiet hostility). Padmé Amidala was not naïve. Her years as Queen, and then as a Senator had instructed her in the intricacies of power and politics. While she still held in high esteem the office of politicians and the good that often came from decisive action, she recognized what was transpiring. The growing disillusion towards the Senate, the Republic, and the Chancellor with the added worry over her husband's well-being caused such intense anxiety.

Padmé Amidala had suspected the Clone Wars was drawing to its conclusion and that the Republic would soon emerge victorious after three years of brutal confrontation with the Separatist. However, the Republic she envisioned and believed in for so long was gradually transforming into something she no longer recognized. The total of emergency powers given to the Chancellor had grown far more significant by the day. Nearly every democratic institution now had the Chancellor's direct or indirect involvement.

According to Bail Organa, Palpatine effectively controlled the Republics whole political scene from the banks, the military, and the law courts. Would he stretch so far as to infiltrate the Jedi Order? Such a possibility terrified her. She wouldn't go as far as to qualify Palpatine as a dictator (or a tyrant), but he was unquestionably becoming more authoritarian as the war raged on. The once benevolent, humble Senator reluctantly pushed into power due to the previous Chancellor's incompetence over Naboo's invasion by the Trade Federation, had transformed into a distant, ruthless, and power-hungry individual. Only the end of the war would put a halt on the Chancellors unchecked power, bringing the Republic and democracy back to its former glory.

Nevertheless, amid the carnage of the Clone Wars, this was hard to imagine. The billions of death and the destructions of boundless worlds all across the galaxy, made as if a curtain of smoke, fire, and bloodshed clouded any perception of hope the darkness would come to an end. Hope was a luxury in these times; one Padmé Amidala could do underestimate.

Last night had been an unexpected much-needed reprieve. After a tedious and challenging political assembly of the Senate floor, she had returned home to find him waiting for her on their apartment balcony. He was leaning on the balcony ledge, staring at the Coruscant horizon, the cool evening breeze whistling through his hair. For a while, she only gazed at him, thinking fatigue and anxiety were playing tricks on her mind. This vision of her husband was no illusion as catching sight of each other; they flew in each others' arms, initiating a passionate and tender embrace. One thing led to another. They both made their way towards the bedroom, disregarding clothes along the way. Luckily, he'd had the good sense of powering down C3PO and R2D2 before she arrived. The last time he'd forgotten had been quite memorable (to say the least).

Waking in his arms this very morning, she desired nothing more than for him to peacefully awaken so they could take advantage of the precious time they had left together. She needed to convey to him her suspicions of Palpatine. They had been far too occupied with other activities to do so last night, but now was the time. The Chancellor had taken a growing interest in her husband, and he, in turn, had been flattered. After all, he often thought that besides Padmé, he was the only one who understood and showed kindness towards him. Padmé had to agree. The Jedi were far too distant and removed emotionally. Even his newly found friendship with his former master Obi-Wan Kenobi suffered from a distance between the two men.

On the other hand, she did not see this as a gradual or casual interest. Palpatine never did anything without reason, as the Clone Wars bitterly taught her. She had to warn him as soon as he woke up. Reaching and tenderly caressing his hair, those unruly sandy blond locks, she gestured as to wake him softly.

His brow tightened, and he began to mumble inaudibly. Padmé suppressed the urge to chuckle as he limply flung his arms, still asleep to lie on his stomach, his head buried in a pillow. For such a distinguished ''Hero with no fear'' no less, he could be such a child. At the very least, his stubborn refusal to awaken gave her the occasion to admire his sculpted, muscular back. There were some discrete lingering marks or tenderness from his lastest injuries, but the bacta had worked miracles on him. Only a trained or close eye could have recognized recently healed burns on his smooth skin. Padmé gave him a slight nudge on the shoulder, whispering his name in his ear, "Anakin…"

Finally, he opened his sleep riddled eyes, a smile forming on his lips. Padmé reminded him of why he was truly fighting. Not for the Senate's political shenanigans, the glory of the Republic, or the Jedi Order. He was fighting for freedom, for peace, and above all for her. Once his sight was clear, distinguishing her features from the blur of dark brown locks, he held her closer to him. All Anakin Skywalker desired was to stay lying in bed with his wife. Lose himself in her and the sense of serenity she inspired in him. They waited like this for what seemed an eternity. Other couples might feel that these minutes were too few, but they were pure bliss to the young Jedi knight and Senator.

Anakin lowered himself as to kiss Padmé softly on the lips. The embrace deepened as she responded to the kiss, becoming more profound and sensual as it progressed. Never breaking the kiss, she stood sitting on top of him, his organic hand trailing down her neck to caress tantalizingly her back. Padmé couldn't prevent herself from letting out a slight moan while Anakin's breathing became heavier. She was letting him tumble her to the sheets. No other gestures needed to understand what he was suggesting. After all, so early morning, no one would hear or see them.

Anakin's commlink broke the silence and serenity of their bedroom, as they were about to resume their ''aggressive negotiations''. Buried within a scattered heap of clothes, the little device's beeping blared furiously. It was very likely Obi-Wan, Anakin's former master, and eternal kriffing pain in the backside. Anakin was tempted to let him wander around in frantic circles trying to find or contact him. But by doing so, he would put himself and Padme in danger of discovery. After one gentle kiss on the forehead, they both rose from their bed. Anakin went to retrieve his clothes, and Padmé went to help him. Just another simple testament of overwhelming love and tenderness. They gradually proceeded to help dress each other—Anakin in his Jedi tunics and Padmé in one of her elaborate, graceful official senatorial gowns.

How he resented the way, their clothes stole their individuality, turning them into symbols—banishing their reality as lovers, husband, and wife—reducing them to the titles of Senator and Jedi. But even more tiresome was the fact that the fabric of Padmé's high neckline dress deprived him of the sight of her beautiful cleavage. Padmé was still trying to help him with his tunic, fastening the fabric to his body when he suddenly turned to face her. Gently reaching to caress her cheek with his palm, he could see the single glittering tear she was holding back. Beneath her smile hid an anguish, he felt all too sharply due to his perception of the Force. There was reassurance that Anakin knew that the long separations were as hard for him as they were for her. He didn't want this moment to end; he never felt like himself without her at his side.

Furthermore, this time the absence would be much longer. Anakin withheld it from Padmé, spare her more pain, the Outer Rim sieges beckoning. They would lead the sieges which the Chancellor and the Jedi Order hope would bring a decisive end to the Clone Wars. Of course, this meant he no indication when he'd be able to return to her, if he ever did. For all Anakin knew, last night could have been their last together. Therefore, he wasn't going to waste his breath dreading what might come to pass. He would enjoy every moment he had with his wife, reveling in the preciousness of this instant. Padmé didn't wait to reciprocate her husband's caress. Pressing her cheek against his palm, eyes closed, and slowing raising her head to offer him her lips, they were once more able to forget the blaring comlink and the duties that would tare them apart.

When the kiss finally ended, and the matter of getting dressed solved, Anakin resolved to tell her the reason behind his improvised night visit.

"Obi-Wan and I are going to the Outer Rim," said Anakin, a tint of despair in his voice "hopefully, we won't be gone for too long." If only he could tell her the truth, not just a miserable morsel of it. He was trying to reassure her, miserably but still. Padmé could tell he was withholding information, but she focused her attention on Anakin, unwilling to spoil the moment.

"Just be careful, and make sure you bring yourself and Obi-Wan back in one piece." She sighed then pulled a mocking face, "after all, you're the one with the great ''shoot me'' sign wherever you go."

He chuckled then gave her the naughty impish grin he always displayed to ease either her or Obi-Wan. "Milady, facing danger is in my job description." He bent to an exaggerated teasing bow.

Pretending exasperation, she nudged him on the chest once he faced her again. He then left through the balcony entrance to the parked hidden city bike he'd used to join her apartment. They shared one last kiss before he would be forced to leave, not knowing if it would be months or years before they could see or hold each other again. When he was gone, she realized she hadn't told him the doubt towards Palpatine that plagued her mind. She hoped that they would be able to have this conversation before anything unfortunate could happen. For now, she had to make her way towards the Senate and face Palpatine once more.

This morning bore an ominous feeling in the air, yet a faint glint of hope resonated. Perhaps a new hope would emerge.


	2. This is how liberty dies

Padmé Amidala once said, as she helplessly watched democracy crumble.

"_This is how democracy dies… with thunderous applause for Donald Trump!"_

Basically, take heed of these words of wisdom. The Rebel Alliance needs you, bunch of scruffy looking nerf-herders! If you haven't cast your ballot yet, plan your navigation plan, fly your X-Wing to the nearest polling station, wear a mask, and vote!

Unless you want November 4th, 2020, to become the day where orange Jabba the Hut gets four more to squash the Republic!

May the Force be with you. Always.


End file.
